


Drugs, Kisses and New Addictions

by Tindomerelhloni



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Addiction, Drug Addiction, Druggie Sherlock, Drugs, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Sherlock - Freeform, sherlock bbc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-16 15:05:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3492836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tindomerelhloni/pseuds/Tindomerelhloni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is struggling with drugs, and John tries to help him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Johnlockthedoors](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnlockthedoors/gifts).



> Just want to say, this is a WIP (work in progress) but I work two jobs. So it might take a while between chapters. I do apologize ahead of time.
> 
> ALSO: Please note... at some point, this will have (somewhat) graphic drug use... so please read the tags and don't read if this is a trigger for you.

 

Sherlock was sitting in John's chair, legs twitching, toes curling into the thin carpet. He was shaking and sweating from head to toe. His usually skilled eyes were glossed over, staring at the bulls head on the wall, trying to forget the fact that his stash was hidden away inside the skull.

A racket from upstairs momentarily pulled Sherlock's mind off of the skull, his eyes flicked to his watch. It was half two, John must be suffering from a nightmare. Knowing that Mrs. Hudson's bedroom was on the other side of the flat he flung himself up from the chair and started pacing, his shaking hands flew into his curls and he yanked hard.

"Fuck..." He couldn't.... He hadn't used in months. What had stopped him in the past from using? Well timed texts from his brother, threatening to call mummy. He closed his eyes, muscle memory guiding him as he frantically paced through the flat.

He desperately wanted to feel the rush of the high running through his blood. His feet guided him to the side of the table, and he reached up, fingers feeling for the slight gap between the skull and the wall.

A muffled scream followed by a string of curses startled him, causing his hand to withdraw from the wall. He could hear John pacing, a few loud thumps caused Sherlock to believe that John's fists would be bruised in the morning and a few more dents had been added to John's wall.

After a few minutes John's pacing stopped and Sherlock's mind picked up its wandering. He tried thinking about the mold cultures he had at Bart's, or the case Lestrade had called him to work on, or that Mycroft had been oddly quiet the last week.

 _"A high is just a chemical reaction. Think, Sherlock, what else causes the same effect without the repercussions of drugs?" Images of textbooks and data flashed through his mind. "Kissing. Kissing releases the same neurotransmitters as those that are released when you engage in intense exercise or do stimulating drugs, like cocaine. This causes your heart to beat faster and your breathing to become deep and irregular."_ Sherlock scraped a shaking hand over his face. "How is that fucking useful?" He all but shouted this at the bull on the wall.

He picked up the Union Jack pillow on John's chair and threw it hard against the mirror above the fireplace causing a loud shatter to echo through the otherwise silent flat. "Fuck." Mrs. Hudson would have words with him about that in the morning.

The shatter had woken John up. His mind playing tricks on him, thinking the shatter had been the aftermath of an explosion. John was screaming, unaware that he was in 221B.

Sherlock bounded up the stairs and picked the lock, shaking his head. Why John locked the door was beyond him. He flicked the bedside light on and spoke softly. "John, you’re home, Baker Street, London." He repeated himself until John started to come out of the dream.  

He opened his eyes and looked around the room eventually spotting Sherlock. He sighed and pushed himself up. "Sorry, did I wake you?..." The rest of his question fell silent as he took in the sight before him. Sherlock was trembling and glistening in beads of sweat. He knew the signs well.

"Jesus, Sher..." He swallowed a lump in his throat, nightmare forgotten. "Did... Did you use?" He stood up and took Sherlock's head in his hands tilting it towards the light, looking into his eyes before breathing a sigh of relief. "Oh thank god...."

 _"Kissing. Kissing releases the same neurotransmitters as those that are released when you engage in intense exercise or do stimulating drugs, like cocaine."_  Sherlock broke away from John’s hands and shook his head trying to clear away the thought.

"Come on... We both need a cuppa." John put his hands on both of Sherlock's shoulders and guided him down the stairs.

"Glass... By the fireplace..." Sherlock sighed as he plopped himself down on the sofa. John nodded his head and entered the kitchen through the hall. A few minutes later he returned with two steaming mugs.

"Aren't we a sight." John scoffed as he took a sip of his tea before deciding it was still too hot. "The druggie, and the soldier who can't get over PTSD."

Sherlock flicked his eyes over to John. He had never openly admitted to PTSD. He said nothing, but watched John.

"The perfect couple. Two broken men. No wonder people talk..." John sighed and leaned his head back. Sherlock nodded but said nothing. Allowing a few minutes to slip by before he gently put a hand on John's leg. "John... tea. Don't want it to get cold."

John opened his eyes and groaned. Leaning forward he put his elbows on his knees and nursed his tea. Sherlock read John's body language like a book, he could see how tense he was. Without thinking he placed a hand on John's back and moved his thumb in a slow circle.

John sighed, closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. Encouraged, Sherlock rubbed a larger circle on John's back.

"Sherlock... you could have told me.. That you were close to this." John scooted closer to him on the sofa and leaned some of his weight on Sherlock's side. "You have some, in the flat? Where?"

Sherlock said nothing but looked at his hiding spot, John following his gaze. When John understood he nodded, put his tea down and got up. Moving swiftly he apprehended Sherlock's stash. "Jesus, Sherlock..." He shook his head and walked off into the bathroom. A flush confirmed that John had just dumped it down the toilet. Sherlock felt a shiver run through his body before the panic set in.

John walked into the sitting room, not seeing due to both his hands rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. When he was almost to the couch he heard the soft whimpers and bolted to attention. "Christ, Sherlock. What do you need? Other than... drugs."

"John... God. I need to be high. I need to feel it racing through my veins." Sherlock's voice was shaking and hardly audible. John pulled Sherlock's head to his chest and held him close. It was something he never, not even his wildest dreams, had thought of doing. But he couldn't stand seeing Sherlock like this. Normally he would help his patients, wean them off, send them to rehab. But this was Sherlock Holmes. None of those options would work.

"Sherlock... What do you need? What will help you?" John stroked Sherlock's hair and held the trembling man, trying to be strong for him.

"High, I need to be high." It was a plea, Sherlock was clinging to John.  Hating being broken, but oddly comforted by the strong arms holding him.

"Sherlock. I'm not giving you drugs. Legal or illegal. It's not happening. That being said, what can I do?”

"Kissing releases the same neurotransmitters as those that are released when you engage in intense exercise or do stimulating drugs, like cocaine." It was out of Sherlock's lips before he even realized he had said it out loud. John's hands stilled and he blinked the shock away from his face.

"Come again?" He licked his lips and gently pushed Sherlock up into a sitting position. Sherlock stared at his toes and muttered something inaudible. John took Sherlock’s chin in his hand and made the man look at him. John’s eyes searched Sherlock’s and he wished, not for the first time, that he could read people the way Sherlock could.

“What do you want from me, Sherlock?” The question was soft and non accusing. Sherlock closed his eyes and a single tear rolled down his face. John brushed it away with his thumb and pulled his friend into a tight embrace. Sherlock clung to John, fingers tangled in the back of John’s night shirt, head resting on John’s shoulder nose firmly planted against John’s neck. John smelled of sweat, probably from his nightmare. Sherlock did nothing to stop the silent tears as they rolled down his face soaking John’s shoulder.

After twenty minutes Sherlock pulled away and rubbed his face. When he removed his face he was surprised to see John’s face inches from his. John lifted his hands slowly and gently cupped them around Sherlock’s face. Without speaking he leaned forward and brushed his lips against Sherlock’s. Sherlock let out a moan and pressed into the kiss as if he needed it more than air. His hands once again found their way around John’s body, pulling him closer.

Encouraged John deepened the kiss. He parted his lips and flicked his tongue over Sherlock’s lower lip. It tasted like tea and salt, it was heaven. A shudder ran through Sherlock’s body, he parted his lips, his tongue finding John’s. It was more elegant than any dance Sherlock had ever learned. John’s hands slipped into Sherlock’s hair, tugging slightly at the curls, trying desperately to get closer to Sherlock, there was still too much space between them.  Sherlock swung a leg over John’s lap, and was soon settled over John, leaning against his chest, panting and moaning into the kiss.

Eventually John pulled away for air, but he didn’t let go of Sherlock. Opening an eye he looked up shyly at his flatmate. His voice was soft when he spoke. “Hi…” Sherlock let out a giggle. That was such a ‘John’ thing to say. He pressed his forehead against John’s voice deep and satisfied. “Hello, John.”

John sighed and slid his hands down Sherlock’s body, resting at the small of his back, pulling him close against his own body. Sherlock nuzzled close, face pressed into John’s neck. “Did it work?” John asked so softly that Sherlock barely heard it.

“Hmm?” Sherlock looked at John, puzzled for a moment until his question sunk in. He let out a giggle and nodded. “John.. you have no idea.” It had helped. It wasn’t quite the same as drugs rushing through his veins, but it was just as intense. Sherlock could still feel the shape of John’s lips.

“No, Sherlock. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that. I just… just didn’t know it yet.” John let his hands trail along Sherlock’s back, learning his every curve. “So… Did it work?”

Sherlock thought for a moment before answering. _It had been intense. The feel of John’s body pressed against his sent shivers through his body, sensations he’d long avoided. The rush he’d felt when his tongue met John’s… Even he couldn’t describe it, it had felt like electricity coursing through his whole body. And he wanted more._ “Yes, John. What… what if that wasn’t enough? What if I need more?  What then?” Sherlock wanted nothing more than to smash his lips against John’s with enough force to push the man deep into the sofa.

John gave Sherlock a coy smile.”Well, as your attending physician it is my responsibility to see  you through this. What kind of doctor would I be if I refused the only treatment that worked?” John slipped a hand back into Sherlock’s hair and pulled him in for a kiss. Sherlock’s body practically melted into the kiss. John sucked in Sherlock’s lower lip and softly bit down on it. Sherlock responded by letting out a long moan, begging for more. John bit down harder then slowly dragged his teeth across his bottom lip before releasing it.

“John.” It was both a moan and a plea, and John would be damned if he didn’t give this man everything he wanted. He grabbed Sherlock’s hips in both his hands, picked him up and soon had him sprawled on the sofa. John was on top of him, a knee on either side of his hips. John nipped at Sherlock's jaw line, Sherlock rewarded him with a gasp and loud moan. John softly growled as he worked his way up Sherlock's jaw to his ear. He sucked on Sherlock's earlobe until Sherlock was whimpering and moved his way back down his jaw, then back up and around to the nape of his neck. Sherlock turned his head to allow John better access.

John bit down. "Mine..." He murmured. Sherlock moaned his agreement. When he was satisfied with the mark he left he pulled away, finding it hard to control his arousal. Things had gotten much more heated than he had intended. He looked Sherlock in the eyes, "Okay?" He brushed a curl away from Sherlock's eyes.

"Yes, John. Quite okay. But..." Sherlock yawned, in return causing John to yawn. "I am tired. Though I have no intention of letting you out of my arms. Come to bed with me?" John pushed himself up into a sitting position with his left hand and winced before nodding. "But first to the bathroom with you, I believe your hand needs looking after."

John nodded and got up, holding his right hand out to help Sherlock up. They made their way through the hall and into the bathroom. Sherlock sat John on the edge of the tub as he reached for the first aid kit. In the better light he could see that John's knuckles were badly bruised and cut up, though nothing appeared to be broken.

Sherlock quickly cleaned the wounds and bandaged what he could, gently brushing his lips against John's fingers before he got up. He held out a hand and silently led John into his bedroom.  "Which side do you prefer?"

John surveyed the room, the soldier in him looking for the best vantage point. "Right please." He wanted to be close to the door in case anything were to happen. His browning was upstairs on his nightstand, but in a pinch Sherlock's bedside lamp would work.

Sherlock crawled into bed and lifted the covers for John. Without hesitation John climbed into bed and curled himself around Sherlock, one arm draped over his chest, a promise to keep him safe.

"Goodnight, John. Thank you." Sherlock practically purred as he wrapped his left hand over John.

"Goodnight, wake me if you need anything. Okay?"

"Mm promise."

Within minutes John was fast asleep, having been lulled into a deep sleep by the sound of Sherlock's heartbeat. Sherlock stayed awake for a few minutes, trying to sort out what had just happened.  Things had just changed between himself and John. It was a change Sherlock had never dared hope for, but a welcome change. After listening to John's steady breathing Sherlock fell into a calm peaceful sleep.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock admits to regular drug use.

Light flickered through a crack in the curtain and danced over John’s face. He slowly woke up and was surprised to find that he was a) in Sherlock’s room b) not alone. The soft thumping of Sherlock’s heart made John’s own heart flutter. He curled into Sherlock, let out a soft sigh, surprisingly happy with the outcome of the night.

After a while he heard faint sounds coming up the stairs. That would be Mrs. Hudson with the tea. He should warn her about the glass, god knows he didn’t want her hurt. He looked around the room and saw one of Sherlock’s spare dressing gowns draped over the chair. Shrugging into it he walked out into the kitchen yawning widely. “Morning, Mrs. H.”

Mrs. Hudson stopped her scowling at the shattered glass and looked at John in shock. “Good morning... dear.” She paused and let a large smile cover her face. She wanted to clap and run up to John, cover him with kisses and a big _“I told you so.”_ instead she calmly picked up the tray of tea and brought it over to the table. “What happened here?” she gestured to the shattered glass.

“Uh…” John scratched at the back of his head with his bruised hand, partly trying to hide it, and started fixing a cup of tea with the other. “Uh… Sherlock had a rough night… withdrawals…” He walked carefully over to his throw pillow and shook it off. “Judging by the state of this pillow, he threw this at the mirror.”

“Here, luv. Give me that, I’ll fix it right up for you. I’ll get someone in to replace this mirror too. But Sherlock’s paying for it.”  John grinned and handed Mrs. Hudson the pillow and watched and she shuffled off down the stairs. After his tea was finished John set about cleaning up the broken glass. Glad for the day off he propped open the curtains and curled up in his chair with the morning paper.

Sherlock woke up alone. Sighing to himself he figured last night must have been a dream. A good dream, but a dream none the less… _Like John would actually want me._ He got out of bed and headed into the lav, after taking care of buisness he walked out into the kitchen. _Ah, John’s been busy… Cleaned up the glass and reading the paper.. Reading the paper… 73% done with it, he’s been awake 32.. no… 37 minutes._

Sherlock set about fixing his tea and nearly dropped the teapot in surprise as John’s arms wrapped around him from behind. John let out a deep laugh that resignated through his chest sending shivers down Sherlock’s spine. _It hadn’t been a dream._ Sherlock’s knees went weak and he leaned against the table for support. “Morning.” John lazily nuzzled his face against Sherlock’s shoulder blades.

“Good morning, John.” Sherlock's voice croaked and he chided himself for acting like a teenager.

“Mrs. Hudson’s sending someone to replace the mirror. Be here today, probably, knowing her. She’s sending you the bill.” John squeezed Sherlock tightly before letting go and shuffling back to his chair and paper. Sherlock’s back was cold in John’s absence.

Sherlock carried his tea to the sitting room and sat in his chair, observing John. _Everything was business as usual. But everything was different._ It was only then that he realized John was wearing his dressing gown. It sent a shiver through him and made his heart race. Confused at his reaction he pushed it aside with a note to document any more such reactions. Looking at John over his teacup he cleared his throat. “Are we going to talk about last night?”

John didn’t look up from his paper, he just handed Sherlock the part he’d finished with. "What is there to talk about?” He let a soft smile cover his face and quickly tried to hide it, turning bright red when he failed and the smile just became bigger.

“We kissed…” Sherlock whispered the words, as if saying them out loud made them false. He put his tea down and thrust the paper in front of his face, unsure if he could control his expression.

“Mmm.. yes. Yes we did kiss, and then I spent the night in your room. Oh, by the way…” John leaned forward and lowered the paper, grinning into Sherlock’s face, “Mrs. Hudson saw me come out of your room.” Leaning back he crossed his legs and became more serious. “Sherlock, things don’t have to change. Well, not really. So… I kissed you? And I liked it…and…” He paused and watched Sherlock’s reaction. “I want to do it again.”

Sherlock grinned and in one motion he tossed both his and John’s half of the paper aside and was sitting astride John’s lap, forehead pressed firmly against John’s. “I woke up, I was alone… I thought it had been a dream.”

“Do you have those dreams often?” John wrapped his arms around Sherlock.

“Mmhmm.”

The realization struck John hard. “All this time, Sherlock… And you never said anything?”

“John, I’m not one for… emotion. That usually… used too anyways, mean relationships.”

John nodded and brushed his lips against Sherlock’s cheeks just as Mrs. Hudson walked in with a tray covered in food. Sherlock sprung off of John’s lap and sat in his chair with a loud thump.

“Oh don’t mind me, boys. Just brought up some food. To celebrate.” She flashed them a smile as she went about setting the table. “Really… It’s about time you two… Even Mrs. Turner’s married ones have been saying…”  
  
“Mrs. Hudson… Isn’t it time for your morning soother?” Sherlock stood up and stomped over to the table. Mrs. Hudson’s back was towards John as he shot Sherlock a stern look. Sherlock cast his eyes down and muttered, “But thank you for breakfast.” Mrs. Hudson fondly patted Sherlock’s shoulder.

“Enjoy boys. Oh, someone will be here around 2 to replace the mirror.. Sherlock, try not to break this one…”  
  
“I make no promises.”

“Just… try, Sherlock. I’d rather not have to call your mother.”

John chose that moment to kiss Mrs. Hudson on the cheek. “Thanks, Mrs. H. Looks fantastic. Want to sit and eat with us?” Sherlock shot John a look, one that thankfully Mrs. Hudson didn’t see.

“Oh no, Dear. I’m about to pop next door. Mrs. Turner and I are going to play scrabble.” Mrs. Hudson took one last look at the table and once she’d assured herself that everything was set she hurried down the stairs.

The boys set themselves to eating, their feet finding each other's under the table. After a while John looked up. “Sherlock, I need to know if you have anything else hidden in the flat. I’m going to help you through this, but you need to be honest with me. Doesn't have to be now… But some time today, let’s clean the place out, okay?”

Sherlock slowly nodded and pushed his mostly empty plate away, appetite lost. “Later… Let’s not ruin this morning. Please, John?”

John gently rubbed his foot against Sherlock’s calf and spoke softly. “No… Not now.” Trying to lighten up the mood he smiled up at Sherlock. “What would you like to do? I have the day off, so I’m all yours today.”

“Honestly?” Sherlock looked over at John hopefully. When John nodded he swallowed a lump in his throat, “I’d like to go back to bed and…” He blinked a few times, unable to believe he was about to say this, “... and cuddle.”

John smiled as he stood up. “Right, just going to use the loo. Meet you in there?” Sherlock nodded and watched John walk away. Sherlock sat there for a moment trying to gather himself. Desperately trying to get a check on his emotions. If things kept going this way, he was going to have to record his feelings. He finally got up and hurried into the bedroom. _The? Not mine? Interesting…_

He was crawling into bed just as John walked in. John smiled, walked over to the window and drew the curtain closer together before climbing into bed. He stretched out and moaned. “Christ… your bed is so much more comfortable than mine.”

Sherlock chuckled as he rolled onto his side, pressing his body against John’s. He slipped his arm around John’s chest and pressed his head against his shoulder. “Maybe that was my way of trying to get you in my bed all these months.”  
  
John let out a long mirthful laugh. “Sherlock Holmes!” he rolled over and pressed his forehead against Sherlock’s. “Do you realize how utterly ridiculous that sounds coming out of your mouth?”

“It’s your fault, John.”

“Mmm… what are you going to do about it?”

“Kiss you…” Sherlock’s voice was deep and almost sultry.

John swallowed hard and licked his lips. “Go ahead...do your worst… er.. or best.”

Sherlock shifted his hand and placed it on John’s cheek, playing with his ear. He shifted a little and pressed his lips against John’s. He nipped at John’s lips greedily, feeling every move they made. He flicked his tongue over John’s lips and they parted in response, releasing Sherlock’s name as a moan. Sherlock groaned and pulled away. “John… Is this too fast?” The last thing he wanted to do was put John in a position he would eventually regret. He needed to know if this went beyond John wanting to help him.

“Sherlock, I’ve lived with you for months now. I’ve watched you strut around this flat, sometimes in nothing more than your pants. You are my closest friend, and I dare say I’d be happy to call my boyfriend. Is it all a bit sudden.. yes.” John closed his eyes for a second then looked at Sherlock. “I think you’re asking if this is more than just… last night. It is, I want this, I want you. Is that okay?”

“Oh god yes.”

John laughed, those three words held so much meaning between them. He pulled Sherlock in for another long kiss, not wasting any time he immediately brushed his tongue on Sherlock’s lips begging for access. When Sherlock’s tongue slid against his he moaned and pressed his whole body against Sherlock’s. They clawed at each other, trying to lessen the space between them.

Panting Sherlock finally came up for air, humming happily. John rolled over onto his back and Sherlock wasted no time in getting settled on his chest. He fixed the blankets around them and closed his eyes, listening to John’ heart. “Thank you, John.”

John hummd and wrapped his arms around Sherlock. “Anything for you, luv, anything. I would walk to the moon and back for you.”

“I know, John… I know.” They both fell silent, feeling both full and content they quickly fell asleep in each others arms.

Sherlock woke first. He looked over at the clock and groaned. It was nearly noon. John’s arms were still wrapped around him. _Why does my heart race when I pay attention to John’s breathing, to the way his arms are holding me tight even in his sleep. Why am I having such a strong reaction to another humanbeing?_ He nuzzled closer to John and placed a soft kiss on his neck. John’s eyes fluttered open and he smiled. A hand found its way into Sherlock’s hair and slowly began playing with his curls. “Hi…” John’s voice was thick with sleep.

“It’s nearly noon… Should we get up?” Sherlock placed a hand on John’s far shoulder, working his fingers up under his sleeve and rubbed small circles. John nodded, but closed his eyes again, not ready to pull himself from Sherlock’s arms.

“Soon, probably. Repair man could get here at any time.”

Sherlock groaned and sat up. “I might get out of bed, but I refuse to put clothes on unless you drag me out of the flat.”

“Sounds like a deal.” John chuckled, sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “So…” He cleared his throat and looked over at Sherlock. “Not to ruin the mood… but we need…” John’s voice trailed off as Sherlock sighed and sat up.

“Hey… we’re doing this together, okay?” He wrapped an arm around Sherlock’s shoulders and squeezed him tight. “I have you.”

Sherlock sat still for a moment then looked around his room, debating on if he wanted to show John all of his hiding spots. In the end he decided it to be honest, got up, and walked over to his wardrobe. Crouching down he tapped a board in the bottom right hand corner and revealed a small compartment. John stood up and crouched on the floor next to Sherlock, a hand on his back for support. With slightly trembling hands Sherlock handed over the small box that contained an assortment of drugs. John kissed Sherlock's cheek and stood. “Be right back, luv.” He went to the kitchen and retrieved a shopping bag and came back with the box in the bag shrugging sheepishly. “I assume there’ll be more… might as well just place it in the bag, rather than holding it…”

“Uh, yeah… good idea.” Sherlock shuffled over to the night stand near where John had been sleeping and opened the top drawer. There in plain sight was a needle and small vial. “Morphine…” he shrugged and handed it over to John. Slowly they made their way through the flat, Sherlock revealing all his hiding spots, one of them being under John’s chair in the sitting room. John making a mental inventory of everything they gathered.

When they were done John placed the bag on the table in the sitting room and sat down in his chair, following Sherlock’s movements as he slowly paced around the room before settling down in his chair.

“That’s it then?”

Sherlock nodded and looked at his toes. “John… I am being completely honest with you. I’ve shown you all of my hiding spots.”

John nodded and sighed. “Thank you, Sherlock.”

“And… John?” Sherlock looked up and bit his lip, feeling like a small child. “If I am being honest… Then you should know that the withdrawals are going to get worse. I’ve been using regularly for the past month. Ever since that night at the pool with Jim.”

John scrubbed a hand over his face and nodded. “Let me see?”

Sherlock blinked for a moment until he understood what John meant. Slipping out of his dressing gown he pushed his sleeve up and looked down, unable to look at John.

John quickly moved to his knees by Sherlock’s chair and took Sherlock’s arm in both his hands, heart sinking when he saw the needle marks. “Oh, Sherlock…” It wasn’t a condescending tone, but one of love. “Tell me, in the future… your mind is far too precious to ruin with drugs. God knows what is in them…”

“I uh,” Sherlock shrugged, “Always analyze them before I use them… make sure they’re clean.”  
  
John placed a kiss on Sherlock’s wrist before he got up and moved back to his chair. He pinched the bridge of his nose before digging a knuckle into his eye. “Good. Well, not that it’s good that you were using… but at least you were being… safe about it.” John sighed and sat back. “What was the morphine for?”

“Some nights I can’t sleep. The morphine helps.” Sherlock shrugged and absently traced a pattern on his thigh.   
  
“Right.” John sighed and looked at Sherlock. “How long until the withdrawals get bad?”

“Giving the last time I used I calculate that by supper time tonight I’ll start showing signs of withdrawal.”  
  
Rubbing his face once more John got up, went up to his room to retrieve his phone and came back down the stairs with it pressed to his ear. Sherlock shot him a questioning look. “Calling the clinic. Going to take a week of emergency vacation. Not leaving you alone.”  After a few minutes of talking with his boss John put the phone down. “There, it’s all settled. God knows I can’t leave you alone during this.”

Sherlock was about to answer when they were interrupted by a knock on the door. They heard Mrs. Hudson answer it and when she said “Just up the stairs” Sherlock’s eyes shot to the table.

“Bedroom, John. I don’t trust myself to take them. Don’t let me alone while he’s here.” John nodded and quickly got up to move the bag of drugs out of sight in the bedroom.

A tall burly man walked in carrying a large cardboard box, a bag slung over his shoulder. Sherlock looked him over   _Three, no four tattoos, divorced twice happily married now, two kids. Steve was written on a little patch on his jacket._ Sherlock rolled his eyes and with a flourish moved to the sofa and sat. Thankfully John came out of the bedroom just then and saved him from having to talk to the man.  
  
“Ahh! Hello, I’m John. That’s Sherlock.” John held out his hand to the repair man.

“I’m Steve.” The man shook John’s hand and looked around the room, spying the broken mirror. “Bit of a domestic?” He eyed John. Sherlock rolled his eyes again _Of course you’re Steve. It says so on your jacket…_

John laughed. “More like a sleepless night and the pillow was the brunt of our frustration. Can I get you anything? Tea, step stool?”

Steve looked around, “Step stool wouldn't hurt. Wont be long, I promise.” John nodded and stepped away to grab the step stool. After handing it to Steve he went over to Sherlock and took his hand.

“C’mon, bathroom. I want to have a look at your arm.” He gently guided Sherlock into the bathroom and sat him on the side of the tub, much like Sherlock had done for him the night before. Pushing up Sherlock’s sleeve again he bit his tongue. “Did you sterilize the skin before injecting and clean it after?”

“Yes, John. Very little chance of infection. Really this,” Sherlock shrugged his arm, “is the least of my worries. It’s the anxiety, muscle aches, insomnia, sweating, chances of abdominal cramps and diarrhea that I’m really looking forward too. And to top it off,  I’ll probably be vomiting the whole time!” Sherlock sighed and leaned against the bathroom wall.

“Sherlock, I will be here for you, the whole time. I’ll tell Mrs. Hudson that your sick, and she can do all of our shopping for us. There will be no reason for either of us to leave the flat, and I wont leave your side.” Satisfied that there wasn’t really a risk of Sherlock’s arm getting infected he rolled his sleeve down and stood up.

“Come on, lets go watch telly while Steve fixes our mirror, then when he leaves you can tell me his life story.” Sherlock grinned a little at that remark as he let John lead him back to the sitting room and back to the sofa. After about an hour the repairman left with a quip about not breaking this one.

John looked Sherlock over and pulled him off the sofa. “Come on, I want to get some more food in you before the day is up. After a light snack John put his plate in the sink and leaned against the counter. “Sherlock, you should go take a shower, I’ll dispose of the drugs while you’re showering.” Sherlock nodded and stood up.   
  
John went into the bedroom and looked at the bag of drugs on the bed, letting out a long sigh. “What the hell am I going to do with you?” Picking up the bag he walked into the sitting room and spotted his phone. Picking it up he flicked through his contacts until he spotted D.I. Lestrade. Hitting send he listened to line ring. “Come on, Lestrade… pick up… pick up, pick up, pick up.” Just when he was sure he was going the voicemail Greg picked up.

“John! Hi.”

“Greg. I’m sorry to do this to you, but I need your help. Off the record, as well.”

“John, is everything okay?”

“Yes and no, can you swing by Baker Street, sooner than later?”

“Uh, sure. I’ll take an early lunch. Be there shortly.”

“Thank you.” John rang off and sighed.

Walking up to his bedroom he quickly dressed and walked back downstairs he sat back down. Collapsing on the sofa he leaned back, bag on his lap and closed his eyes. He stayed like that until there was a faint rap on the doorframe. “John? Everything ok?”

John opened his eyes and looked up. Greg was standing just inside the room, worry written all over his face. John sat up a little and nodded, talking quietly. “Yeah. Come have a seat, we need to talk.”

Greg moved over to the table in the sitting room and turned a chair around so he was facing John. “What’s up, John?”

John sighed and told him about Sherlock and his drug used and motioned to the bag. “We cleaned out the flat, he says of everything, and I’m choosing to trust him.” He looked down at the bag on his lap. “Greg, I can’t leave this here, can’t have it around him. But I have no way of safely disposing of it without leaving him alone. I know this is a lot to ask… But is there any way you can help? I don’t mean to put you at risk…. I just…” John sighed and lowered his head.

“John, it is a lot to ask, but of course I’ll do it. This is Sherlock we’re talking about. What choice do either of us have, really?” Greg stood up and took the bag from John’s lap and peaked inside it. He let out a low whistle. “Wow… This is…”

“Impressive? Yeah, I’d say so. We’re in for a rough night.”

Greg looked around the flat for a moment before nodding. “Well, if there is anything else I can do for either of you, please don’t hesitate to call. I’m going to head out so I have time to take care of this…”

“Greg, thank you. I don’t know what I would have done.” John stood up and clasped Greg’s hand. Greg nodded and headed down the stairs just as Sherlock was making his way out of the bathroom, towel around his waist and one in his hand.

“Who was that?” Sherlock asked as he toweled off his hair.

“Greg.”

“Who?”

“Oh for the love of god, Lestrade.” John rolled his eyes and let out a soft laugh.

“What did he want?” Sherlock narrowed his eyes and stared suspiciously at John.

“Sherlock, he’s helping. He took the drugs, totally off record. Honestly, its a good thing. I had no bloody idea what to do with it.”  

Sherlock relaxed and nodded. “Good… that’s good then.” Sherlock walked over to his chair and sat down drawing his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on a knee.

John got up, grabbed the blanket that usually hung on the back of his chair and wrapped it around Sherlock. Leaning down he kissed the top of Sherlock’s wet head. “Hey.. it’s gonna be alright. I promise you. What can I do to take your mind off it it?”

 

[ ](http://s64.photobucket.com/user/Johnlockthedoors/media/11047003_1037020986326855_1676886429_n_zpsb36lw1pq.jpg.html)

 

Sherlock looked up and offered John a small smile. “Play cluedo with me?”  John dragged a hand through his hair and offered a laugh.

“Oh god, I’m more worried about playing cluedo with you.” Fetching the game John dragged the small table from the side of his chair in between them. “Read the rules this time, please!”

“Never, John. It’s more fun this way.” Sherlock tossed the rule booklet aside and leaned forward in his chair.

“John, prepare to lose.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so very much to PharLap Cartoonist for making the art used in the fic. 
> 
> [](http://s64.photobucket.com/user/Johnlockthedoors/media/11047003_1037020986326855_1676886429_n_zpsb36lw1pq.jpg.html)  
> And as always thank you to my girls who helped me along with this chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so very sorry about the shortness of this chapter, and for how long it has taken me.
> 
> I've been very busy, this chapter is much shorter than I wanted, but I wanted to give you SOMETHING.

After a few hands of cluedo John laughed and threw a game piece at Sherlock.

“Oi! you rotten cheater… go put clothes on! That towel is hardly covering you…”

Sherlock grinned and walked into the bedroom, dressed in pajama pants and  sat on the sofa.   
A while later found the boys curled up on the sofa, John had convinced Sherlock to watch a Bond flick. Sherlock was trying to pay attention but if he was being honest all he could think about was wanting to use. About half way through the movie John looked over at Sherlock. “What had you been taking? There was an awful lot of stuff in that bag…”

Sherlock nodded and looked at his fingers for a while before speaking. “Mainly cocaine, easy to use… no marks.. But..” Pulling up his sleeve revealing the needle marks, “obviously a bit more.” He shrugged, feeling guilty he couldn’t bring himself to look John in the eye.

“Hey,” John gently turned Sherlock to face him. “I’m not drying to make you feel guilty. I just need to know.”

Sherlock nodded again and turned away, unable to stand the thought of disappointing John. Relationship or not, he never wanted John to see him like this, and it was only going to get worse.

“Hey…” John wrapped an arm around Sherlock’s shoulders nearly whispering. “Was it just because of that night at the pool?”

“Mostly, yes. Jim Moriarty is a puzzle I haven’t been able to figure out yet, and it is driving me insane. I find it hard to concentrate on our other cases…” Sherlock let his voice trail off and feigned interest in the movie, letting John know he was done talking. John decided to give Sherlock some space and set about making tea. When he stepped back into the sitting room he was greeted by a sad look for Sherlock.

“Judging by my heart rate, and my sudden irritable mood…. I do believe it has begun.” John simply nodded and put the tea down on the coffee table.

“I’m right here, Sherlock. Whatever you need…” John sighed and placed a hand on Sherlock’s knee as he sat down next to him. “I’ll do what I can.” Sherlock nodded and leaned back on the sofa.

“I feel like I’m waiting for a tidal wave to hit London. Nothing I can do to stop it, no way of preparation, just… waiting. John, I hate waiting.”

“Nothing to be done about it, Sherlock. Let’s just keep ourselves busy. Another game of cluedo? Or we could read through some e-mails. Might be able to find an interesting case?” John leaned against the far edge of the couch and watched as Sherlock wrapped his dressing gown tighter around him.

“John, it would be wise for you to get the medical kit you keep in your room. As I believe I might pass out soon. I am..” Sherlock took a long slow breath, “finding it increasingly difficult to breath.”

  
John nodded, got up and quickly ran off to fetch be bag. By the time he came back Sherlock’s face was much paler, he was covered in sweat from head to toe, and his hands were shaking. John quietly knelt next to Sherlock took his wrist his hand, taking his pulse. “Sher… Jesus…”   
John tore through his bag and yanked out his stethoscope, a worried look on his face upon finally finding a heartbeat.

“N… not… good?” Sherlock’s voice was hoarse and  barely audible.

“No… not good. Sherlock I need you to lie down.” John used his thumb to stop a bead of sweat from going into Sherlock’s eyes. “Christ, Sherlock… you’re burning up.”

“No… c.. cold, John.”   
  
John cursed under his breath and dug through his bag, handing Sherlock two pills..”Acetaminophen… I’ll get you some water.”  Sherlock feebly reached for John’s arm as he started moving away.

“C-cold… Blanket.”

John walked to over to Sherlock's chair and retrieved the discarded blanket. Walking back to Sherlock he tucked the blanket around the detective and propped his head up with a pillow. “Right, going to get water.” Returning a moment later with a glass he pressed it to Sherlock’s lips and tipped it up. Sherlock brought a shaking hand to his mouth and with a little trouble swallowed the pills. John watched as Sherlock sank back into the sofa. He was pale… paler than John had ever seen him. There were dark circles forming under his eyes and beads of sweat on his brow. 

“John… Kiss me? Please?”

John’s heart melted and broke, he dropped to his knees by Sherlock’s head, cupped the detectives face in his hand and pressed his mouth to Sherlock’s trembling lips. Sherlock tasted salty from sweating, but his lips were soft beneath the trembling. After a long moment John his face away enough to look into Sherlock’s eyes, bloodshot still, but not nearly as glazed over. As John pulled away Sherlock sucked in a deep breath, held it then slowly let it out.

“John, that… helps. Maybe only because I want it to, power of suggestion, and all… But it helped, if only a little.”

“Good, I’m glad.” John smiled and knelt back. “Can I get you anything?”  
  
Sherlock closed his eyes and sighed. “John… I’ve done this before, gone cold turkey. It’s not going to be pretty. I’m going to say some things…”  
  
John interrupted with a soft, “Hey…”

“I will, John. I’m sorry. Just… when I lash out, don’t get mad. Please? Just kiss me? Like right now.”

John licked his lips and nodded. Stroking Sherlock’s with his thumbs, “I have you, Sherlock. I wont let this claim you.” John knelt next to Sherlock for what seemed ages, resting his head on Sherlock’s chest. Partly out of affection, and partly to monitor Sherlock’s heart. After 30 minutes John sat up and looked at his detective.

Come on. Sherlock. You’re still shivering,” feeling Sherlock’s forehead he was pleased to find it wasn’t burning up. “I need to get you in the tub. Can you get up for me?” Sherlock slowly sat up and groaned.

“Bin… going to be sick.”

John leaned over towards the table and grabbed the trash bin, handing it to Sherlock just as he violently lost the contents of his stomach.   
John stood, held out his hands to Sherlock pulled him up until he was standing. With slow clumsy steps with Sherlock leaning on John heavily, they made their way to the bathroom. John sat Sherlock on the edge of the tub partially leaning against a wall. Starting the taps he plugged the tub and turned his attention to Sherlock.

“Give me your legs.” John quickly pulled off Sherlocks socks then gently tugged at his pant legs until the elastic waist was pulled down past his hips, Sherlock helping by lifting his bum up slightly. “Arms up…” John lifted Sherlock’s shirt up over his head and tossed it to the ground.  “Pants now… Can you stand?”

Sherlock nodded, stood and swayed, catching himself on  John’s strong shoulders. John tried not to think about how Sherlock’s hips were at eye level. Instead he put on the face of a physician and stripped off Sherlock’s pants, helping him step out of them.  

John leaned over and dipped a hand into the water, testing the temperature “It’s warm, but not overly so. How hot can you handle?”

“H.. hot..” John turned the hot water up and helped lower Sherlock into the water. An audible sigh escaped Sherlock’s lips as his body was submerged into the warm water.  
  
“John… Join me?” Sherlock looked up and caught John’s eye. John smiled softly and began stripping. John turned the taps off and stepped into the water behind Sherlock and slowly lowered himself down.  
  
“Better?” John kissed the back of Sherlock’s head.

“Mmmhmm. Warm now.” Sherlock nuzzled against John’s body. “You’re warm too…”  John wrapped his arms around Sherlock and held him close. They stayed in the tub until the water turned cold and Sherlock began to shiver again.

“Right… It’s late, bed. We’ll get what sleep we can. John stepped out of the tub, toweled off and helped Sherlock up. Once they were both dry John lead them into the bedroom, sitting Sherlock down on the bed he began going through Sherlock’s wardrobe.

“Do you not have any warm pajamas?” 

“Just t-shirt and bottoms.”  
  
“Stay here.” John ran upstairs, still only wearing a towel and grabbed two of his warmest shirts. He threw on a pair of his pants and pajama bottoms and hurried back to Sherlock, pulling one of the shirts on over his head as he walked.   
  
“Here, wear this.” John handed him a pair of pants, bottoms, and his shirt. He helped Sherlock into the clothes and got him comfortable in bed. Without thinking he joined him, under the covers and pulled Sherlock into his arms.

“Sherlock Holmes, you wake me if you need me. For anything. You understand?”

“Yes, John. I promise.”

John smiled and tilted Sherlock’s head up and kissed him deeply before settling back down into the bed.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

John woke to the sensation of Sherlock’s weight shifting off of his chest. Still half asleep, he opened an eye and sat up. “Sherlock?” He had to speak twice as his voice was thick with sleep and it came out as a croak the first time.

There was a groan as Sherlock sat up. “Going to be sick.” He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood on shaking legs.  One hand on the wall he stumbled into the bathroom. By the time John was up and at his side Sherlock was bent over, shaking hands gripping the toilet bowl. Sherlock heaved with such force his hair bounced and fell into his face. John leaned forward and brushed Sherlock’s hair away from his face, then sat on the edge of the tub.

When it appeared Sherlock was done he fetched a wash cloth and ran it under warm water. Sherlock let go of the toilet, sat back and leaned against the tub. Nodding his thanks he took the offered cloth and dabbed at his face. He licked his lips and made a disgusted face at the tasted of bile.   
  
“Sorry..”

“It’s fine, Sherlock.” Observing Sherlock’s reaction to the taste in his mouth he put some paste on Sherlock’s toothbrush and handed it to him. Once Sherlock was done he put the toothbrush back.  
  
“Come on, tea… that’ll help.”  
  
“John, you think tea fixes everything.”  
  
“I’m British, so of course I do.” John smiled and offered Sherlock a hand up. Sherlock reached out and as John took Sherlock’s hand he couldn’t help notice the heat radiating off it him. “Oi… we need to get your bloody temperature under control.”  Sherlock just nodded and let John lead him into the kitchen where he was made to sit in a chair.  
  
“I feel cold, John.”  
  
“You’re covered in sweat, and burning up… the chills would be from the fever, which we need to get a hand on…” John quickly set about making tea and once the water was set to boil he went to retrieve his bag that was still sitting near the sofa. Pulling out a thermometer he handed it to Sherlock who promptly stuck it under his tongue.    
  
As luck would have it, both the thermometer and kettle went off at the same time. John removed the kettle from the burner and walked the two steps to Sherlock. By the time he was there Sherlock had already cleared the reading.  
  
“Sherlock! Why’d you do that? I need to..” Sherlock interrupted him.

“All you need to know is that it was high.”  
  
“How high?”  
  
Sherlock shuffled his feet and avoided John.

“Sherlock! How high?”

“Not good…”  
  
John sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Do I need to take you to the hospital, or can we try medication first?” Sherlock’s eyes widened with fear at mention of Hospital.”  
  
“Medication first… It was 38.8°C..  Not high enough for any damage yet…”   
  
John sighed and nodded, leaning hard on the counter. “Fine, I’m checking your temperature every half hour, and if it goes up...even a little…” John looked at the kettle.. “Tea is a bad idea for you… it would raise your temperature.”   
  
“Water is fine.. I should stay hydrated anyways.”

John stood up and fetched two tall glasses, filling them with ice water. “Could you manage some fruit? I need to get something in you before you take any medicine.”  
  
Sherlock grimaced but nodded. “I’ll try.” Though he didn’t sound too sure.

John turned around, cut up a few slices of apple and, for good measure, put a handful of crackers on the plate. Filling up a glass with water he brought everything over to the table and sat next to Sherlock. John’s timing couldn’t have been better. As he sat down Sherlock slumped over and John had just enough time to catch him before his head crashed down onto the table.   
  
“Oi! Sherlock…” John grunted and half stood, trying to support Sherlock’s weight. “Mate, I need you to wake up!” He managed to lean Sherlock back in the chair, somewhat supported, long enough to look around the room. His mobile was just out of reach, if he shouted loud enough Mrs. Hudson might hear him.  After a few solid shouts Mrs. Hudson came rushing up the stairs.   
  
“Oh, Dear! What’s happened, John?” A frail hand flew to her mouth.   
  
“Mrs. H, I need you to get a cool damp cloth. If I can’t get him back… well… I’d hate to call an ambulance.” John looked up, still mostly supporting Sherlock, keeping him from tumbling out of his chair.  
  
Mrs. Hudson dashed to the bathroom and came back a moment later with a cloth. “Here, Dear. If this doesn’t work, I have some smelling salts.. Always did the trick for Mr. Hudson.”   
  
At that moment John was incredibly grateful that the seemingly innocent Mrs. Hudson had a lot more history than she let on. “Would you fetch them? Please?” John offered her a smile that spoke his thanks.  
  
“Of course. Shall we get him to the sofa first?”  
  
“Hm? Oh… Bedroom, that’s closer, if only just. Could you…” As he spoke Mrs. Hudson put her arms under each of Sherlock’s armpits and spread her legs to keep her ground. “Right, thanks. Just support him while I…”  John grunted and managed to cradle Sherlock against his chest. Sherlock had lost a lot of weight, but his length was a little hard to balance. Once John had his feet under him he stood up straight and made his way to the bedroom.  
  
“I’ll turn down the covers, though, judging by the heat pouring off of him, we won't be needing them.”   
  
“No.” John grunted, voice strained “Need to get this fever under control. It’s just shy of causing brain damage.”   
  
Mrs. Hudson hurried ahead, arranged the pillows and blankets and quickly stepped out of John’s way as he maneuvered through the door frame, avoiding hitting Sherlock against it. Carefully placing him in bed he stood up and groaned. “God, he’s heavy for a stringbean”   
  
“I’ll just go fetch those smelling salts, and a few ice packs, see if we can’t get that fever down.”

After assuring that Sherlock was as comfortable as he could be John went back into the kitchen and looked in the freezer. As usual… it was the odd assortment of body parts and frozen animals, but no ice. John went back and sat on the bed, wondering if he was out of his depths. He was just about to go fetch his medical bag when Mrs. Husson came back.

“Here, luv.” She handed him the smelling salts. John opened the small container and waved it just under Sherlock’s nose. After a few seconds Sherlock’s eyes fluttered open.

“I’m in the bedroom, how did that happen? We were just at the table?” His eyes met John’s and it was all John could do to keep from crying.

“Oh, Sherlock. You passed out. Gave John a fright you did!” Mrs. Hudson put a hand on Sherlock’s forehead, brushing the curls out of his face and tutting at how hot he was. “Ice… We need ice.. John I’ll go see about the ice packs now.”

John placed a hand on Sherlock’s forehead. “Still warm… I need to get this under control or we won’t have a choice about the hotel. I’m going to see if Mrs. Hudson will sit with you.. No, don’t argue! I’m going to run to the clinic and get some medication. I fear you won't be able to keep food down, or water for that matter. Please, don’t argue, Sherlock.”  
  
Sherlock sighed but nodded. “I trust you, John.” John leaned down and took Sherlock’s sweating face in both his hands. He was just pressing his lips to Sherlock’s when Mrs. Hudson walked in.   
  
“Oh, sorry boys.” She moved around John and placed a few ice packs around Sherlock’s body.

“Mrs. Hudson, would you sit with Sherlock? I need to run to the clinic for some medication. Need to get some fluids in him, and something to control this fever.” John stood and straightened his shirt.  
  
“Of course dear!”   
  
“Right, thanks! Wont be long.” John ran upstairs, changed into a fresh set of clothes and tried to make sense of his hair. Giving up after a moment he hurried down the stairs and hailed a cab.  Pulling his mobile out of his pockets he phoned a co worker and without much detail, explained what was happening, asking if she could get the items he needed ready.

“Of course, I’ll meet you by the door. John, is he going to be okay?”

“Dunno, Mary.  He’s Sherlock Holmes, is he ever okay?”  
  
“From the stories! I’d say no. Anyways, gotta go. I’ll meet you by the door in 5.”  
  
John hung up and closed his eyes. When the cab stopped he asked the driver to wait a moment, ran to the door and quickly ran back to the cab. “Right, back to Baker Street. Please.” John closed his eyes and forced himself to breath. He needed to stay calm, and not let worry kick in. He might not know what awaited him when he got back home, but he knew Sherlock was in good hands at the moment.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry for the delay, and for how short this is. I've been working crazy hours, and by the time I get home I've been on my feet for 12 hours and I just... turn off. I miss writing though, and I'm going to try to set a few hours here and there aside to write!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Johnlockthedoors for helping me edit this.


End file.
